


Fitton Heatwave

by Slashify



Series: Your Life with Martin [2]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Martin Crieff/reader with a vagina, Martin is a loveable goober, Porn, Reader-Insert, Sweet/Hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1998912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slashify/pseuds/Slashify
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin comes home after a not-so-great flight to find you waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fitton Heatwave

**Author's Note:**

> This story is about Martin and a reader with a vagina. If you are interested in a story featuring Martin and a reader with a penis, let me know and I'll do my best!

You wake with a start at the sound of a door opening. You're disoriented for a few moments before you realize where you are. You recognize the heat of Martin's small attic room. The aircon's been out since the week after he moved in, he told you once, and a rare Fitton heat wave has you naked in his bed, covered only in a threadbare sheet. 

You smile as you hear him set his keys on the desk, hissing in a breath when it wobbles from where the broken desk leg is propped up with old flight manuals. It happens every time he comes home, but he still seems surprised. You keep your eyes closed as he moves quietly through the room, trying not to wake you. He stumbles as he pulls off his uniform. You try to picture the room from memory, the mismatched furniture, the hideous flower-print sheets covering you, the painting of a plane with dogs as passengers peering out the windows that you bought him at a rummage sale three months ago. When you hear him swear softly you imagine him balancing on one leg while struggling to pull the sock off the opposite foot. You can't hold back a little giggle at the image. 

"How long have you been awake?" He asks. 

"Since you came in." 

You open your eyes to see that you were right about his de-socking pose, and his foot is still hovering near his hand. 

"Come over here." You say, smiling fondly at him. 

He sits on the bed, the old springs creaking like always. His breath hitches when you sit up and the sheet slides off of your chest. You pull his legs up into your lap and work the socks off his feet. You brush some sock fuzz off of his long, slender toes before you start a gentle foot rub. He groans. You feel a spike of heat that has nothing to do with the weather. 

"Good flight?" You ask, but you can tell it wasn't. Martin always feels a little better when he can rant about what bothers him, so you give him the chance. 

He stops abruptly in the middle of a story about Douglas embarrassing him in front of three other pilots, and you realize your hand has tightened around his ankle. You hate stories like this. They make you want to punch Douglas and wrap Martin in soft blankets and never let him go. You relax your hand and resume the foot rub. Martin tells you about Arthur smuggling his dog onto GERTI, making an allergic passenger sneeze through the flight. 

Martin pulls his feet out of your lap and stands to pull off his pants, light blue with clouds, another gift from you. He crawls into bed, and just lies next to you for a moment, his eyes closed. He takes a few deep breaths before he turns to you. His eyes are soft with affection, his lips curled in a gentle smile. He reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, runs his hand down your cheek, your neck, before settling his arm around your waist. He presses small kisses to your neck, down to your collarbone. You feel him shift from shaking off the stress of the day to something more heated, and you bring him in for a kiss. He hums, kissing you hard. 

"I've been thinking of this all day." He says when he pulls back for a moment. 

You grin and pull his lips back to yours, threading your fingers into his ginger curls. You're pleased to feel much less product in his hair than he used to use. It seems as though the more confident he feels, the less gel he uses. 

He moves on top of you, straddling your thigh. He's already hard against you. His lips move down your neck once more, his hands slide over your skin, rubbing your shoulders, dragging fingertips over your waist and to your hips, never staying in one place for long. 

You love it when he's like this, and he knows it. You feel surrounded by him, your head swimming with the sensations. You're more than happy to drown in it for awhile. You trust him to bring you back up to the surface. 

His lips move to your breast. You spread your legs a bit more when his hand moves between your thighs. You want to arch up into him, but you can't decide if you want to move your hips against his hand, or press your chest up to get more contact with his mouth. His lush lips surround your nipple, sucking and licking before he bites down. You moan loudly and he smiles around your nipple and slides a long finger inside you, kissing back up your throat as your head tips back onto the pillow. 

"You're so wet," he pants into your ear, "Have you been thinking about this, like I have?" 

You moan again when he puts another finger inside you, moving his hips against your thigh. 

"I'm always thinking about this," you tell him, "always think about you." 

He groans, kisses you again as he slides his fingers out of you. He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a condom. 

"Are you ready?" He asks you. 

"Yes, please!" You run your fingers along his hips as he puts on the condom. 

You spread your legs for him and he slides into you slowly, moaning into your shoulder. He always feels so good inside you, and the noise he makes has you trying to catch your breath. After a moment you start to shift your hips and he takes the hint, still moving slowly. He always starts out so gentle, like he thinks you might break, like he's waiting for you to change your mind. You reach your arms around him to grab his bum, your version of reassurance. 

He picks up the pace and soon the two of you have found a rhythm, moving together like you were made for this, for each other. You pant and moan together, and mumble nonsense to each other. 

Martin's fingers tangle in your hair and pull. You hear yourself groan in a way you haven't before. He stops everything and starts apologizing, stumbling over his words. You cut him off with a hard kiss and a breathy: "Harder!" 

He pauses for a moment, and you can tell he's trying to work out if you meant his thrusts or the hair pulling. You mean both, and you're about to say so when he tilts his hips and brushes against your g-spot, making you gasp and wiggle your hips against him. 

Soon he's thrusting into you hard and fast and deep, pressing against your g-spot, one hand in your hair, one hand teasing your clit. Your head tosses on the pillow, and your toes curl into the sheets as you feel your orgasm rush over you. 

Martin almost stops thrusting, grinding his hips against you as you clench around him. He presses his face into your shoulder, letting out a deep, muffled moan. You know he's not finished yet. 

When you catch your breath he looks down at you with a grin. 

"Okay?" He asks. 

"So good," you manage to mumble, "keep going." 

Knowing you're overstimulated, he's moved his hand from your clit to curl it around your shoulder. He thrusts into you deeply and slowly. Within minutes he's fucking you through a second orgasm, but this time his hips stay pressed into yours as he moans out his own orgasm. 

"Well done, Captain." You mumble. Martin chuckles. 

You lie in a sated sprawl as he disposes of the condom and cleans himself up a little. He sinks bonelessly into bed and wraps his arms around you. The room smells of sweat and sex, but neither of you mind. 

You reach over to the nightstand and peer into the condom box. 

"Only two left." You say. 

Martin smiles and says the two of you can pick up some more on the way home from dinner. You'll probably get up and go eat in an hour or so, but for now you're both content to stay in bed.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing anything like this. I usually write slash. Some of it seems too flowery, but I don't know, I kind of like it. Let me know if you want more glimpses of your life with Captain Crieff!


End file.
